


Prompt 3: Meal

by GemmaRose



Series: 32 Days of Sanji 2017 [3]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Cooking, Gen, Pizza, midnight snack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:21:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11453964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GemmaRose/pseuds/GemmaRose
Summary: Some Sanji PoV leading up to that time they have pizza as a midnight snack.





	Prompt 3: Meal

Sanji hummed to himself as he worked, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips. The process was familiar, calming even, and he let his mind wander as his hands kneaded the pizza dough. What to put on them? Obviously two would have to be loaded with meat, for Luffy, but for the rest... perhaps he could make individual sized pizzas instead of whole ones? This was meant to be more snack than meal, after all. 

So, two full sized meatzas for Luffy. He’d need to cook up plenty of sausage, slice the pepperoni, cut up the smoked meats, maybe add some fish if he had time. For Zoro, he’d make one full sized pizza, since the swordsman was still training and would have a decent appetite worked up by the time they were done baking. Zoro liked his with pepperoni and pineapple, the heathen, which meant cutting up a pineapple. He’d have to make the girls pineapple drinks to go with breakfast, tomorrow. Maybe Nami would let him make some fresh pineapple-tangerine juice.

Just thinking of Nami made him smile, and he quickly pulled his mind back to planning her snack. She liked her pizza simple, soft white cheeses only with a light sprinkling of olives and feta. He had some pitted olives in the pantry, but no feta. He’d have to apologize for not picking any up when they resupplied on Sabaody. Especially since he did have all the vegetables Chopper liked on his pizza, and the little pickled banana peppers Usopp preferred with sausage and Franky’s barbecue sauce. Shaking his head, Sanji moved the dough into a large bowl and covered it with a clean washcloth.

He dusted his hands together, picked up the bowl, and cradled it in one arm as he walked to the pantry. There was cheese to grate, fruits and vegetables and meats to chop, and of course, sauce to add the finishing touches to. Oh, and he couldn’t forget the curry. Robin, with her adventurous West Blue tastes, liked her pizza with curry instead of the usual sauce. Putting the bowl down on a shelf near the back of the oven, Sanji set about gathering the ingredients he needed and carrying them out to arrange on the counter. The raw sausage and barbecue sauce were right where they belonged in the fridge, and he paused to look out the porthole once his hands were empty.

He’d always thought the ocean lovely, and tonight was no exception. He couldn’t fathom how some people could live their whole lives on land. Grinning, he took an onion and got it ready to dice. The hour it took for the dough to rise passed by quickly, as time always seemed to do while he cooked, and Sanji started the oven heating as he went to retrieve the bowl. The process of rolling the dough was almost as calming as kneading it had been, the rote familiarity broken only by shaping Nami and Robin’s crusts into hearts, and he started a timer for just shy of ten minutes as he popped all four of them in the oven.

taking the little alarm with him, he left the kitchen through Chopper’s office and fished out his lighter on the rear deck. He could hear his nakama on the main deck, Luffy’s enthusiastic shouts mingling with Brook and Franky’s lively music, and he smiled as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. For most of his twenty one years, the working at the Baratie had been just about his entire life. In comparison, he’d spent barely any time with his crew; just the length of their trip through the first half of the Grand Line before they were divided for two years of training. And yet, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere else now. Couldn’t imagine cooking for any other crew the way he cooked for them.

The timer went off, and he stubbed out his cigarette on the railing before tucking the remainder back in his pocket. No sense wasting a perfectly good half a cig when they didn’t know how long it’d be before they could resupply. Running a hand through his hair, he walked back into the kitchen and grabbed a pair of oven mitts. Now all that was left was to put the sauces and toppings on, stick them back in for another ten minutes, and let them cool ten more so he could cut and serve them. It wasn’t quite a meal, but it would certainly make his nakama happy.


End file.
